


Rode Hard and Put Away Dry-Heaving

by SnarkySharke



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: And other things that make North cringe, Bad food choices, Drinking, F/M, Ficlet, Hangover, bad life choices, is that how you use that tag?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-03
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24517975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnarkySharke/pseuds/SnarkySharke
Summary: York and two of his best friends (and some of the only people who won't try to kill him these days) try to have just one fun night in the aftermath of Freelancer. It wasprobablyfun -- York doesn't remember most of it.
Relationships: Agent Carolina/Agent York (Red vs. Blue), mentioned only
Kudos: 18





	Rode Hard and Put Away Dry-Heaving

**Author's Note:**

> An old snippet I decided to share. I wasn't doing anything with it, but it still amused me when I rediscovered it, so here it is.

_York. Please wake up now._

York groaned. "D...?"

_Yes. How do you feel?_

"Can you ask quieter?"

_...No, York. I cannot._

York blinked up at his skylight, determining it was far too bright. "...Right."

"What?"

York froze. Blinked. 

"Huh?" he repeated, just to make sure the sound hadn't come from him.

"Oh, hey."

York turned his head. Slowly. Trying not to induce motion sickness or a worsened headache.

"Oh,” he grunted. “Ffffuck.”

"Thanks," South grunted beside him, raising an eyebrow.

York shook his head. "North's gonna murder me. No -- with my luck, Carolina's just gonna pick right now to walk back into my life. You know what, where's my pistol?"

" _Relax,_ " South pushed herself up with a hand on his face, disentangling her limbs from his. It was still a milder response than he had expected. "Nothing happened. Well, a lot happened -- but we didn't fuck, so calm down.”

"Oh, good." She shot him a quick glare. "I mean... Not... good?"

"We can always fuck now, if you want."

“No. Thanks.”

“Psht. You’re in no position to stop me.”

“Oh dear god… Rain check, please.”

“Careful what you ask for…”

York forced himself to sit up -- slowly. He dragged his hands down his face. "Okay, so if we didn’t sleep together, why are we in bed together?"

“Oh no, we definitely slept together.”

“Fuck, South, I thought you said--”

“Literally, dumbass. We slept. Together. Look, turns out, when you're drinking, you're a lot of fun -- which is no surprise, really. When you're drunk, you start making really bad decisions -- which is also fun and also not surprising."

"Great story," York remarked, staring at his own still-donned pants as South redressed on the other side of the bed. "Why do you remember it?"

"North didn't want to come, remember? You can turn around now."

York grunted and pivoted on his bed, then squeaked again in a higher octave and spun back.

"You're wearing _less_ , not more," he complained.

"Ha. Only from the waist up, you baby. North didn't want to come, but he was worried about you, so I took it easy."

"You? Taking it easy?"

"I thought it'd be fun to be able to remember you piss-drunk."

"Uh-huh." 

"Speaking of which," South continued, "I know I mostly just get angry when I get hammered, but you, unfortunately... you're one of those sad drunks. Once you get past the shenanigans and go into stupor mode, you kinda just crawl around and gibber."

"Oh." York grimaced. "Jesus. Sorry, South."

"It's, it's okay," she said, which was surprising.

"No it isn't," he grumbled as she walked around the bed into view -- top half clothed as well. "It was supposed to be just a fun night out."

Then South really surprised him -- she sat down close next to him and threw her arms around his shoulders, leaning them against each other.

York stared blankly ahead. "Who are you and what have you done with South Dakota?"

"Look, you asked me to hold you, jackass."

York’s grimace grew grimmer. “I did?”

“Well, you practically did. My name was in there somewhere.”

This time York scowled. “I… _gibbered_ about you?”

“Fine, it was just a lot about Carolina, you knew that already. You needed _someone_ to hold you, okay? You happy?”

York stared blearily at the center of his apartment. "You cuddled with me."

"No I didn't. I just... held you. While you cried. And drooled."

Ignoring the pain in his pride, York pressed on. "Yeah... You cuddled me."

"Ah, fuck you."

"And, that's how I know I'm not actually awake yet. Probably in a ditch somewhere. Feel free to wake me up any time now, D."

She pushed him back away from her with a snort. He hit the sheets again without resistance. "Ow."

"I went through a lot of trouble to make sure you didn't stay in a ditch, asshole. And to keep your drunk ass from falling back down the fire escape. You're heavy, you know that?"

Fighting through the pounding in his head, York returned with all his current verbal might. "There's the South we all know and avoid."

"So drink a little less next time," South ordered. " _Then_ we’ll fuck."

York blinked again, looking unsteadily at her. "I-I can’t, I can't... tell if you're joking."

"Because we are going out drinking again, you know. And next time, North’s playing responsible adult."

"As long as you don't let me drink this _much_ next time... And hey… thanks. For, y'know, staying with me. And my drool."

She shrugged quietly. "Well, your face was stuck in that stupid puppy dog shit,” she said, looking away. “Even I’m not immune to that level of pathetic.”

There was a knock on the door, which seemed to reverberate around York's skull several dozen times. "Ow."

South answered it, and North trotted in with take-out breakfast. "Hey, you two."

"Where were you?" York asked, pulling on a shirt and trying not to strangle himself with it.

"I don't think it's possible to be that hung over." North lifted one bag. "What's it look like? I got breakfast. When I woke up, you two seemed... cozy, so--"

"And clothed," York pointed out. "Cozy and clothed. Completely clothed. No unseemliness here, no sir."

"Half-clothed," South corrected.

"Okay half-clothed," he mumbled.

"I'd be disappointed in you otherwise, York, I don’t wish that fate on anyone. No, you guys did wake me up getting back last night.”

“Not enough for you to help,” South observed.

“No. Not that much. You penetrated but one level of my slumber.”

“Sorry anyways, man,” York said.

"Less apologizing, more eating. Plenty of bread product and sugars, it'll do you good." North set breakfast down on the edge of the bed. "The cuddles seemed... cathartic, for you."

“It wasn’t cuddling,” South cut in. “Cuddling’s your department.”

"Too bad I don't remember it, then," York grunted as he looked over his delivered breakfast. “The big question. Waffles or pancakes?”

“Plenty of both, my brother.”

“Chocolate sauce?”

“Of course. I know you better than that.”

“Coffee?”

“Started some before I left.”

“You’re a saint.”

“No, I just know your terrible idea of hangover food.”

“I don’t see any _other_ food here.”

“And, I admit, your terrible hangover food has grown on me.”


End file.
